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Wesley:
Six weeks ago I was ordinary and pathetic. Just like you. Who am I now? An account manager, an assassin, just another tool that was mind fucked into killing his father. I'm all of these, and I'm none of these. Who am I now? This is not me fulfilling my destiny. This is not me falling in my fathers footsteps. This is definitely not me saving the world.

Wesley:
This is me taking control from Sloane, from the fraternity, from Janice from billing reports, from ergonomic keyboards, from cheating girlfriends and sack a shit best friends. This is me taking back control of my life. What the fuck have you done lately?

Sloan:
Insanity is wasting your life as a nothing when you have the blood of a killer flowing in your veins. Insanity is being shit on, beat down, coasting through life in a miserable existence when you have a caged lion locked inside and a key to release it.

Wesley:
I understand. Junior high must've been kind of tough, but it doesn't give you the right to treat your workers like horseshit, Janice. I know we laugh at you, Janice. We all know you keep a stash of jelly donuts in the top drawer of your desk.

[crouches down]

Wesley:
But I want you to know, if you weren't such a bitch, we'd feel sorry for you. I do feel sorry for you. But as it stands, the way you behave - I feel I can speak for the entire office when I tell you... go fuck yourself.

Wesley:
[voice-over]
It's my anorexic boss' birthday. This means there's a certain amount of inter-office pressure to stand around the conference table, eating crappy food and pretending to worship her. Acting for five minutes like Janice doesn't make all our lives miserable is the hardest work I'll do all day. My job title is account manager. I used to be called an account service representative, but a consultant told us we have to manage our clients, and to not service them. I have a girlfriend who I neither manage or service. That's my best friend Barry fucking her on an Ikea kitchen table I picked up for a really good price. I'm finding it hard to care about anything these days. In fact, the only thing I do care about is the fact that I can't care about anything. Seriously, it worries me. My name is Wesley Gibson. My dad walked out on my mom when I was seven days old. Sometimes I wonder if he ever looked into my baby blue eyes and asked himself "did I just father the most insignificant asshole of the twenty-first century"?

Wesley:
[after killing first target]
What did he do to deserve to die? You don't know. I didn't know if he was bad. I didn't know if he was evil. I didn't know anything about him. We get orders from a loom; fate. And we're supposed to take enough faith in what we're doing is right. Killing someone we know nothing about. I don't know if I can do that.

Fox:
About twenty years ago, there was this girl. Her dad was a federal judge, so she probably had it in her mind that she would follow in his footsteps. So she's home one Christmas, and her dad's on this big racketeering case. The defendant wanted to get a softer judge who they could buy off. So they hired this guy, Max Petridge, to get him to pay her father a visit. And the way he pays people a visit is to break in, and tie up their loved ones, and force them to watch while he burns his targets alive. And then he takes a wire hanger, twists it around, and brands his initials into each one of them so they will never ever forget. After I was recruited into the Fraternity, I found out that Max Petridge's name had come up, weeks before the federal judge was killed, and that a Fraternity member had failed to pull the trigger. We don't know how far the ripples of our decisions go. We kill one, and maybe save a thousand. That's the code of the Fraternity. That's what we believe in, and that's why we do it.

Wesley:
[voice-over]
Want to hear something sad? I use an ergonomic keyboard to keep my repetitive stress injury in check. Just the fact that I repeat something enough that it causes me stress is fucking sad.

Wesley:
[voice-over]
You know there are people, beautiful people, you just wish they could see you in a different setting, a different place. Instead of where you are, what you've become. But most of all, you wish you weren't such a pussy, for wishing for things that'll never change.

Sloan:
It a choice, Wesley, that each of us must face: to remain ordinary, pathetic, beat-down, coasting through a miserable existence, like sheep herded by fate - or you can take control of your own destiny and join us, releasing the caged wolf you have inside. Our purpose is to maintain stability in an unstable world - kill one, save a thousand. Within the fabric of this world, every life hangs by a thread. We are that thread - a fraternity of assassins with the weapons of fate. This is the decision that lies before you now: the sheep, or the wolf. The choice is yours.

Sloan:
[walking in]
It's not a question of how. It's a question of what. If no one told you that bullets flew straight, and I gave you a gun and told you to hit the target, what would you do? Let your instincts guide you.

The Butcher:
That was a rhetorical question, puto. You interrupt me again, I use the business end. Here's what you need to know, puto. Knives are easy to hide. They don't jam, and they never run out of bullets. They come in handy when you want to do some close contact work.

Wesley:
[voice-over, after Barry calls him the man]
I'm the man? Yeah right, Barry. I'm the man. In fact, I'm so much the man that I have a standing prescription for medication to control my anxiety attacks. God, I wish I had something else to relieve my stress.